I'm under my special blanket, by the stove, wrapped in 117 woollen squares knitted by my Great Grandma for my parent's wedding in 1962 (which turned out to be a famously cold winter so I'm sure it was welcomed). I've been watching the snow covered mountain tops, behind the house, turn all shades of rosy, sugared almond pink, against a sky of ice blue, as the sun set; wishing I'd timed my short walk up the valley better and knew more about camera settings. Never mind, I did that thing we should all do more of and just looked and said "ooooh" and was "present in the moment". Now night has fallen, the cat is snoring and my fingers have just about thawed out enough to type...but I feel a bit stuck if I'm honest. The pressure to maintain an upbeat public persona and maintain a stiff upper lip in times of adversity can be stifling (and dishonest in my opinion). Nobody wants even more gloom in the gloomiest month of the year but, for the record, 2018 so far has been ... difficult. I'm fully prepared to be optimistic , it would just be nice to have a little balance for a change, a "good news, bad news" situation instead of a general trend towards worry, jumping when the phone rings and eating way too much rice pudding as comfort food. Anyway, here is a seasonal antidote, something really fun and absorbing that I found yesterday on the Makelight website. Emily Quinton and her husband Stef have developed an app. called #YearOfColour which extracts the colours from your Instagram pictures and creates really interesting palettes of colour, grouped according to popularity, time of year and so on. I found it fascinating and surprising to see the results for Witchmountain (where did all that sandy beige come from?!) and it's a really useful design tool.I've been tempted to do one of Emily's online photography courses so that next time I won't miss catching the mountain glow.In the meantime I tried to take advantage of some beautiful winter sunlight today to take a few pictures of prints which have recently come back from an exhibition in Keswick and need to be listed on my website. I noticed an ancient, painted over nail on the porch of the cottage next door so I made a little outdoor gallery and wrestled with reflections. What a beautiful afternoon though; the kind of air that feels like a cool drink and signs of spring everywhere. The exhibition had been in Keswick's Theatre by the Lake and it was encouraging  to receive a few website sales this month, from people who had seen work there.The bumpy start to the year and my decision not to do British Craft Trade Fair has left me feeling as though I'm drifting a bit but that's not always a bad thing... who knows what opportunities and inspirations will be found wherever  that current takes me.I mentioned the Dream, Plan, Do journal in my last post and last week I made a start on the first sections of the book which aim "to help you focus on your vision, future and values." So here's a confession... I couldn't do it. I felt intimidated by my apparent lack of focus and clear direction after nearly 10 years of being "Witchmountain" but most of all I was unable to contemplate the question " How old will you be in 2030, how about your parents, children, partner?". As I say, it's been difficult lately (the stuff that makes us human - love, loss, ageing ...you don't need to know the details) and I still have't got used to being 50 let alone been able to imagine being 62! To cut a long story short I closed the book, retreated into another good story (The Night Circus) and decided to peek warily at the Facebook group that runs along side the planner instead. And here is why it's sometimes ok to admit when things are crappy and your life isn't looking like a styled Instagram shot; because it turned out I wasn't alone. Loads of other people were saying the same things or asking similar questions, dealing with all sorts of bad stuff and supporting each other. Encouragement and understanding and practical solutions abound in groups like that, and yes, you can end up spending too much time Dreaming and not enough time Doing if you're not careful, but I picked the planner up again and didn't feel quite so alone (so thanks Patricia and the Dream,Plan,Do team). I got a similar feeling to the one I got last summer, packing up after Art in the Pen, which was that I was slightly awestruck by the resilience and determination of so many creative people who are usually juggling all sorts of plates, some with jagged edges, and without those people the world really would be eternally January.In other news I gave away a lovely original hare print last month as part of my Newsletter Subscribers Draw and this month there will be another (nice) surprise for somebody so do subscribe if you haven't already (and tell all your friends). I'm also going to be doing lots of other random giveaways throughout the year as part of my celebration of 10 years of writing this blog.The little paper houses in the picture above are a FREE pdf download on my website in the Cards section of the shop where, should you be in the market for one, you could also find some perfect cards for Valentines Day ;)Enough sales talk, I'm off to stitch tiny cross stitches into paper whilst watching whodunnits on Netflix.One final thing about that planner...I haven't reached the page yet but I've gathered that people have to choose a keyword for the year. I have come up with two (because I fancy being self indulgent) they are RESILIENCE and CONNECTION, I don't think you can have the first without the second so this is the year I want to spend more time with the people I care about, keep in touch with old friends and building connections with new ones. If you're reading this then that includes you. Thank you xReading: "The Mitford Murders" Jessica Fellowes. Listening To : "How to Stop Time" Matt Haig ( on Audible) and "Charlotte Anne" Julian Cope SaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSave

Here I sit on the 3rd day of the year, a nuthatch is attacking the bird feeder,  and apart from the kettle bubbling on the stove, the house is momentarily empty and quiet. I'm trying to gather some thoughts to cobble together this blog post but after nearly a month with no phone or internet, combined with the blurring together of days over Christmas, I feel as though I've emerged like Rip Van Winkle, blinking and out of time. Yesterday the phone was finally fixed (a giant battle with EE for compensation begins) and I am so joyful at being able to speak to my family in a warm room instead of shivering half way down the lane. I  missed Christmas as far as my work goes ... no access to the website or ability to promote myself through social media has probably resulted in fewer sales,  but the radio silence has made me even more acutely aware that it is the connections we make with other people that really matter in life. Isolation can be a terrible thing and cannot be compared to chosen solitude. Anyway, all communications are working again now, I didn't have to start training pigeons and the new year stretches ahead like a clean sheet of paper. I'm sharpening metaphorical pencils and preparing to make the first marks.We had some sparkling days in December, when the path to the reservoir was studded with emeralds and rocks in the Scope Beck were encased and smoothed by shells of ice. Lakes reflected skies like water colours and kept reminding me of  my dad's paintings, as I wandered about being over emotional and nostalgic - a side effect os the season.I had that "end of term" feeling in December as the last of the year's orders went out. It's a good feeling, to have cleared my desk, done the tax return and temporarily downed tools but also tends towards panic as the pressure to build on this year's successes grows. I made the decision not to do British Craft Trade Fair this year which means I'm going to have to work really hard to be visible (the internet outage couldn't have come at a worse time!) and hopefully keep the galleries I've worked with in 2017 interested as well as finding some new opportunities. Art in the Pen was so good for me that this year I'm hoping to do a few more similar events as well as getting my act together with the plan to run small workshops here. I like the idea of hosting small groups, running informal "kitchen table" style workshops and finally being able to use my "Brownie Guide Hostess Badge" skills (endless cups of tea and cake) .Really I should have spent the month of no internet working on a new collection of designs and pouring over my  "Dream, Plan,Do" journal ( setting "juicy goals " ugh, no! ) but instead I retreated in to a book and it was the best thing I could have done. I'd wanted to join in a Twitter read along thing dreamed up by Robert Macfarlane and Julia Bird, the idea was to read  "The Dark is Rising", a children's classic by Susan Cooper, mirroring in real time the days described in the story, starting on Winter Solstice eve. I managed to find a hideous 1990's copy in Oxfam which included all five books in the sequence ( The Dark is Rising is the second but they all could stand alone) and set about retreating from real life for a while. It was a shame I couldn't join in with the #TheDarkIsReading discussions online but I feel as though it was perfectly timed ; descriptions of winter landscapes, dark lanes, ominous crows and battles with "the Dark" came easily to mind as I spent many hours standing alone in the pitch dark and bitter cold trying to make phone calls!  There is something comforting about reading books associated with childhood and I raced through all five volumes, able to briefly forget my worries. It reminds me of the winters of 2009/2010 when the heavy snow meant enforced seclusion and retreat (on that occasion in to  Tove Jansson's Moominland Midwinter) ; I think we all need this escape/hibernation from time to time and it has left me more able to face the January chill and the uncertainties of another year so thanks for the prompt Robert and Julia. Goodness, the fire is a disgrace; despite frantic wood collection and much sawing by Rupert and his brother over the past few days (the woodpile got wet when the basement flooded last night during Storm Eleanor). My fingers have gone numb. It's time for me to think about supper and finding something dry to burn... or another jumper...Happy 2018 to you and thank you as always, for reading . This blog will have it's tenth birthday in April so there will be things to win and tiny celebrations. For now I will leave you with this "Best9" image that seems to sum up 2017 in all its beautiful shades of blue, green and grey.Reading; "The Night Circus"  by Erin Morgenstern  Listening to: "How to Stop Time " by Matt Haig ( audio book) and trying to forget the hours of Christmas tunes played in a loop by EE customer services.

This week has been a particularly odd one ( in good ways)  and I blame Jackie Morris. If you've been reading this blog for long enough you'll know that almost exactly 7 Novembers ago I spoke about discovering Jackie's work, whilst contemplating the universal imagery of  "the bear and the girl". My own "bear thing" was caused by a mix up in which I had my heart broken by a young bear-man who went to Canada, just after I'd based my entire final collection at University on bear related myths and legends. It was a weird time, including the worst winter for years, being snowbound in my beautiful cottage and subsisting on a diet of whisky, cigarettes and fruit cake. By the time I wrote that blog post I was starting to emerge from the forest and had begun to visit the Lake District with Rupert ( at which point I quickly realised it was unpleasant to climb hills with a hangover and downing neat rum before heading up Haystacks isn't advised)So, fast forward and somehow I'm living by these lakes and mountains, still dreaming of bears, still feeling a little lost in my new world, wondering who to be now that I'm grown-up, uprooted, finding myself, as if by magic, an occasional bookseller in the tiny treasure of a bookshop and then... who's coming in to sign books but Ms Morris (that's her pretending to be a snow leopard in the squeaky bookselling chair)Ok, to be fair its not all Jackie's fault. When I knew she was coming to Sam Read's and that I'd be working that day I had tried to work out when I'd first mentioned her work on this blog and of course that meant I trawled through the past and my net came up full of  pictures of "home" so my memory was jabbed  and I lay awake all night listening to the owls conversing on the window ledge and lived most of the lines from that Talking Heads song ..."this is not my beautiful life...how did I get here?" Anyway, Jackie and Robin arrived in the bookshop and we talked and drank coffee from Lucia's and ate the peculiar bear shaped biscuits that I'd made and I'm pretty sure I was completely uncool, like an overenthusiastic puppy (I am excited about so many things and it's a shame that shyness makes that feel awkward, I wish it was considered un-cool to be cool and that people could really feel free to express their joy without worrying that they appeared foolish and agonising about it afterwards). It was lovely to talk about art and nature, printing blocks, sketchbook paper, conkers, and the book "The Lost Words" ( a subject Rupert has often talked about as he returns from work sometimes with stories about children not knowing the names of trees, or animals, calling the lake a river or a pheasant a "ginger squirrel"!).We also talked about some pictures she'd posted on Twitter of a painted stone hidden in a tree and so today I set off on a quest because I was pretty sure I knew where it was.Even though I know being outside will lift my spirits and that walking is the best way to work through ideas and emotions, it is often the hardest thing for me to do. Actually motivating myself to leave the house can feel like wading through bread dough and yet, and yet...it never fails to work subtle magic, mood lifts and thoughts start to race. Today, because I wanted so much to find and photograph the stone I was not only inspired to get out but observing everything around me even more carefully. I had a mission, like arty geocashing, no wonder Masquerade caused such a stir.  The first sight of the lake made me gasp out loud, it was one of those perfect, oily mirror days that send you off balance and made me wish more than anything that I'd brought my swimming stuff. Viscous water, that's what it is; you can almost see the surface tension and imagine that it would hold you. I used all my Landscape Detective skills, learned in geography lessons where  we were given a photograph and an OS map and asked to pinpoint the view. I got it wrong and set off from the wrong side of the lake.I nearly gave up but then I worked it out and there, nestling in the crook of a branch was the golden treasure! Well hidden, not at all obvious if you weren't looking. I invented a quick spell, toasted with a flask of coffee, which will hopefully channel some of Jackie's skill and success into my own work via my "I am an artist" ring.  Well, you never know. Of course I replaced the stone, making sure no-one but the raven saw me, because I'd had such a lovely time searching that I hoped other people would too. Returning, I passed another tree that had had flowers and a plastic notice tied to it with red ribbon last time I'd walked this path. It was a memorial to a lost loved one and moving in it's own way but it made me think how many of us feel the need to leave these offerings and memorials and how fine the line is between honouring a place and damaging it. The red ribbon was all that remained on the tree, jarring in the soft winter light and what happened to the plastic? Jackie's stone was as natural as the tree it rested in and will weather and fade, if allowed to, but people who find it will feel a little joy at their discovery.On the way back to the car I lost my bearings and found a tiny creature on a wooden bench, another little treasure, on a path I would never otherwise have discovered. That sounds a little bit like life, so, now, by the stove (which needs another log) I'm trying to find the words to express this magical walk without straying into the sickly realm of motivational quotes and New Age, pseudo pagan bullshit but actually I'm not sure I can (talk about Lost Words eh) To me it feels as though it reinforced the fact that everything is connected , that getting lost can help you find what you really need and that the treasure you find, however tiny, is the reward for all the bad stuff.Look, this bear found treasure too...The kettle is about to boil and I have a parcel to carefully wrap as these two lamps are heading to new homes in the far North this week. I've added a custom order section to the website so it's now possible to easily commission your own bespoke lamp to light up your winter. I'm also entering the Wraptious competition which was a spur of the moment thing so I'm not all that worried, but you'll be able to vote and for a short time buy the designs on their website. It's worth looking because there are some beautiful designs by loads of different artists (I've voted for lots already). Until next time xReading : " The Keeper of Lost Things" Ruth Hogan    Listening to: " The Amber Spyglass" Phillip Pullman ( Audio Book) oh and this... "Tracking Treasure Down" Gabriel and Dresden ....my heart missed a beat, more memories and some kind of residual ecstatic rush.